


Mulan As Performed By the Cast of Final Fantasy 15

by Araesson, Arlewena



Series: As Performed By [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Also Nocturna TOTALLY stole his sword and he didn't EVER gift her one of her own, Also also he would like to make it known Bahamut is NOT a real dragon, Also an enabler, Also as a side note why is Ramuh not helping, But mostly a meddler, Can we all just agree that Ignis gives better advice than Mushu, Demoted Ignis is Spiteful Ignis, Does he have to do everything himself around here?, F/M, Fem! Noctis, Ifrit wants to know how Shiva could do this to him, Ignis as Ifrit, Mors' Insistence that Carbuncle Is Definitely A Cricket Your Eyes Are Just Bad, Mulan AU, No thats not my sword you see that's a letter opener, Real dragons breathe FIRE, Shiva is a meddler, The Immortal is not just a nickname, don't be ridiculous Regis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-28 13:53:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15708558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Araesson/pseuds/Araesson, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arlewena/pseuds/Arlewena
Summary: Starring:Nocturna as MulanIgnis is Ifrit as MushuCarbuncle as Cri-KeeRegis as Fa ZhouAulea as Fa LiMors as the GrandmotherGladio as ShangClarus as the GeneralRavus as the EmperorGlauca as Shan-YuNyx, Libertus, Prompto, and Pelna as Yao, Ling, and Chien-PoArdyn as Chi-FuBahamut as the Great Stone DragonGentiana is Shiva as a GuardianRemaining Astrals as GuardiansSomnus as the Great AncestorThe Lucii as the AncestorsLuna and Cor are also here





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I (Araesson) was sick. And Arlewena is the best so she watched kids movies with me. This is what happened.

_Nocturna Lucis Caelum_

 

Even if Nocturna had, once again, slept in late, she still figured she had enough to time go over her notes just one more time while she ate breakfast (without the vegetables her mother always wanted her to eat).

“Quiet and demure…” Nocturna read aloud between bites of rice. “Graceful. Polite.” Okay, she could do that. She’d do fine today. “Delicate.” Probably. “Refined. Poised.” Maybe. Well, she’d do her best. How bad of an impression could she make? “And punctual!”

With a smile, she glanced outside her window, only to give a surprised start when she realized the sun was up much higher than she had thought. Had she really slept in _that_ late?! Nocturna jumped up and ran from her room, the remainder of breakfast forgotten. She still had chores to do!

She sprinted her way to get the feed bag and make sure all of the animals were fed, stopping temporarily to pat Umbra’s head as she passed. Then she had to return to the kitchen to make her father’s tea. The water took a maddeningly long time to boil as she watched it, unable to sit still with impatience. She set the cups and tea on the tray at lightning speed, but she had to be slower as she searched the house for her father. He was nowhere inside, but she soon found his cane rested against the shrine.

“Father!” she called as she climbed up the steps, “I brought your--” she nearly rammed right into him as he exited the shrine, but she pulled back just in time as the glassware rattled on the tray.

“Nocturna.”

She was occupied with pouring out a glass of tea for her father, “The doctor said you have to have three cups in the morning, I should have made enough, just make sure you--”

“Nocturna,” her father repeated, firmer this time. “You should have already left. We are counting on you.”

“I know, I know.” Nocturna replied, “I’ve got it. I won’t let you down, dad.” She handed the tray to her father with the full cup of tea. “Well, I’ve got to go.”

As she turned and flew down the steps, she heard her father call, “Hurry!” Which she was already doing, but, well, she _was_ running late. Of all the days to run late, this was probably the worst one. It was just so hard to wake up so early…

She briefly considered warping her way to the stable, but it was too risky. She didn’t want her father to catch her warping, and he might still be watching her. She wasn’t running late enough to risk her knives being taken from her, not to mention the fact that she would probably be grounded forever. Nocturna still made it to the stables in record time, and quickly slung herself up onto the black, silky chocobo the family kept. She urged it to sprint out of the family grounds and towards town, her blue eyes constantly glancing towards the sun and back to the road, as if by watching it she could will the sun to stay low to the ground.

After leaping over some wreckage in the road, she slid from the back of the chocobo in front of her mother and announced, “I’m here!”

Aulea Lucis Caelum looked far from impressed, her hands coming to her hips as she gave her highest grade of disapproving mom look.

Defensively, Nocturna asked, “What? Mama, I had to--”

Her mother urged her towards the door of one of the many buildings in town, replying, “Of all of the days to sleep in, Nocturna! Come on, we must get you cleaned up before we’re late.” Grandfather Mors winked as they passed, grabbing onto the chocobos reigns.

The women inside the building were quick to push her into a freezing cold bath. As she was rushed through a wash, she heard the ladies discussing what they could do with the little time they had left. It was quickly decided that they would have to go simple on everything they could, including the hairstyle-- which, honestly, was what Nocturna would prefer. The less they pulled at her hair, the better.

“Nocturna, what are these?” she gave a start as she noticed her mother draw her hidden daggers from the folds in her discarded clothes.

“Uh… Daggers in case I need to cut somethi…?” she sighed under her mother’s gaze and said, “Grandfather gave them to me so I could defend myself. I mean, no one will see them?”

Her mother sighed, “I swear that man…” However, she didn’t say anything else, or even take them away, so Nocturna counted it as a win.

She felt breathless and winded as first her hair was done, and then her clothes and makeup. The dress was almost impossibly tight, making it difficult to breathe, and the makeup felt caked onto her face.

“There.” her mother said at last, placing a comb bearing a sylleblossom into her hair. “You’re ready.”

“Not quite.” Grandfather Mors interrupted. She jumped in surprise-- she hadn’t noticed that he had returned to the room. He was carrying a little bag, which he placed onto the tray placed beside where Nocturna was sitting. First he drew out an apple, which he handed to her with a wink as he said, “I’ll bet you skipped breakfast. Here, you’ll need your strength, dear. Also.” he dug into the bag again, this time drawing out a black skull pendant-- the symbol of their house, “I brought this for you. You’re going to be representing the family, after all.” He tucked the pendant into her sash.

She took a bite of the apple, trying to be careful not to mess up the paint on her lips as her grandfather fastened a necklace around her neck. “Lastly, this!” Nocturna nearly choked on her apple as Grandfather Mors drew out a strange… creature in a little cage. The creature was fluffy and white, with huge ears and a little pink horn on its forehead.

“This little cricket saved your life all those years ago, so I figured he might bring you luck today.” her grandfather informed her, attaching the little cage to the back of her sash.

“Grandfather, I don’t think that’s a cricket.” Nocturna mentioned, craning her neck to look at the little thing. It felt familiar, but wasn’t it supposed to be… bigger?

Grandfather Mors shook his head, and repeated in a firm voice, “It’s a cricket, dear. And you young people keep telling _me_ to get my eyes checked!” Her mother shook her head at her from behind grandfather’s back-- it was no use arguing. Grandfather Mors got stubbornly insistent over the strangest of things. Even if the little creature was clearly anything but a cricket.

“Well, get going. It’s time.” her mother said, waving her towards the door. Taking in a deep breath, she exited the room. She could do this. Well, probably. She sent a quick prayer to her ancestors and the family guardians, just in case. If even her grandfather was worried enough about her chances to make her bring a strange creature he insisted was a cricket, she should probably be a little nervous. Then again, Grandfather Mors could be a bit… strange.

She had to run to catch up with the procession of young women gracefully making their way down the road. Nocturna took her place in the back of the line. The others all looked calm and ready, their hair elaborate and nothing out of place. Nocturna did her best to imitate them, but she just felt silly.

The group fanned out in front of the Matchmaker’s building. They were right on time-- just as they settled, the Matchmaker’s doors flew open. After a few moments of silence, moments that Nocturna spent staring at the ground and trying not to panic, a voice called out, “Nocturna Lucis Caelum.”

Her head shot up, and she called out a squeaky, “Present!” in her surprise. She hadn’t expected to be first!

“Speaking without permission.” said the Matchmaker with derision. Nocturna couldn’t help but wince. What else was she supposed to do?... She probably wasn’t supposed to look up. It was a bad habit, but Grandfather Mors had ingrained it in her to keep her eyes up in order to watch for attackers. Just as he had ingrained it in her to always carry the daggers she even now had on her person.

Nocturna slowly climbed the steps and entered the building, her shoulders drooping. She was not off to a good start. The doors ominously slamming shut behind her did nothing to soothe her nerves. Alone with the Matchmaker, the scariest woman in existence who held her entire future within her hands. Joy.

She came to an uncertain stop a few paces inside, her shoulders tense. The Matchmaker began to circle her, taking in every bit of her appearance in with a critical eye. The woman grabbed her chin roughly to examine her face. Nocturna just tried not to meet her eyes and hoped for the best.

As last, the woman made another comment, “Too skinny.” What?! But wasn’t that something that everyone had stressed she needed if she wished to be desirable? “Not good for bearing sons.” Since when, and why had no one told Nocturna that? She so could have been eating more than she had been! And without those stupid vegetables!

Her attention was caught as the ‘cricket’ scampered across the floor. She considered lunging for it, but then the Matchmaker had rounded upon her to order, “Recite the final admonition.”

Okay. Okay. She had just looked at that. Nocturna cleared her throat and said, “Fulfill your duties calmly and… respectfully?” That was right, was it not? She tried to keep her face clear as she searched her brain for the next part. “Reflect before you… um, act.” Nocturna hid another wince at the hesitation, and rushed to finish with, “This shall bring you honor and glory!”

“Hmm.” the Matchmaker seemed unimpressed. Did she ever seem impressed? “This way.” Probably not. Nocturna hadn’t messed up too badly yet. She followed the Matchmaker to the table and sat down at the woman’s prompting. A tea pot was placed on the table. “Now, pour the tea.”

Nocturna reached for the teapot and began to pour a cup as the Matchmaker told her, “To please your future in-laws, you must demonstrate a sense of dignity and refinement.” Nocturna glanced back down, and jumped again as she realized she had spilled some tea on the table. Stop looking at the Matchmaker! She was not supposed to look at people!

“You must also be poised.” Nocturna resolutely kept her gaze down. She knew this already. It had been drilled into her head often enough.

She jumped again, almost dropping the tea pot, when she saw the ‘cricket’ jump onto the table and then into the tea, making a quiet chirping sound as it dunked its head down and then up, shaking out the still clean white fur.

Her eyes grew wide as the Matchmaker grabbed onto the tea cup, “Um, pardon me?”

“And silent!” the Matchmaker barked. Oh, no. What was she supposed to do? The creature… thing was still in the cup.

“Um, but could I just take that back for a moment?” Nocturna asked, leaning forward. She didn’t want to just yank it back, but if the Matchmaker found a weird creature in her cup of tea, surely that would be worse than being a little rude? She reached forward to take it, but the Matchmaker growled and yanked it back, a bit of the tea splashing out onto the front of her dress.

The Matchmaker howled as the hot tea soaked her front. “Why, you clumsy--” A high pitched chirp interrupted her. The older woman jumped with a little yelp, and began to squirm as the ‘cricket’ crawled into her dress and eluded capture. The woman tripped and fell into the hot coals she had scattered across the floor only moments before. The Matchmaker screeched and leapt to her feet, bouncing around. The bottom of her dress appeared to be on fire. Oh no. Oh no. What should she do? She could always use a bit of ice magic, but… anything else? Nocturna tried to fan the little flames out, but it only made it worse. Howling, the Matchmaker ran out of the building and into the front.

“Put it out! Put it out! Put it out!” the Matchmaker screamed as the gathered crowd did nothing but stare. If she used the ice, now everyone would see! But… Wait. She caught sight of the teapot, and grabbed that instead. It might be hot, yes, but maybe it would help? Nocturna had to try. She raced to the Matchmaker and threw the tea. After a moment of silence, she handed the teapot to the older woman and bowed, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment. There went any hope she’d had of doing well…

Nocturna hoped to get away cleanly, since it was clear she had failed, but as she made it to her mother the Matchmaker screeched, “You are a disgrace!” the shattering of the teapot made her flinch back into her mother.

“You may look like a bride, but you will never bring your family honor!” the Matchmaker roared. With that, the woman turned and fled for the building. Once the door slammed shut, Nocturna heard the gathered crowd begin to whisper, and ducked her head. That couldn’t have gone any worse.

Her mother grabbed onto her arm and her grandfather patted her shoulder as the crowd dispersed.

“Nocturna? Come on. Let’s go home.” her mother said in a soft, gentle voice Nocturna rarely heard these days. She leaned into her mother as she was guided back to their chocobo and other belongings.

She’d… failed. And now she’d have to tell her father. Nocturna shivered. What could she do now? If she couldn’t impress the Matchmaker, her family had no future.

So much for being ‘the Chosen’... she was nothing but a disgrace.

The three returned home in silence, unable to meet the eyes of anyone they passed by. Grandfather Mors’ hard look kept anyone from saying anything, but she still felt all eyes on them, watching them retreat in shame. It was almost a blessing to return home, at least until she saw her father, watching from the front porch with a hopeful smile. Nocturna couldn’t bear to say anything, so instead she averted her eyes and hid her face behind the chocobo. She clutched at the silky black feathers with fingers that trembled.

Nocturna returned the chocobo and sighed. She removed the earrings and necklace as she made her way from the pen, but paused when she saw her mother talking to her father. She couldn’t approach them. Instead, she made her way to the gardens for some time alone.

Well, it shouldn’t have been such a surprise. She had been meant to be a boy. It figured that she would fail so spectacularly at being a woman. At bringing her family honor.

Her father deserved better.

She wandered the grounds for a while, hesitating by the shrine. Nocturna couldn’t bear to go inside after failing the family in such a big way. Instead she made her way to a bench in the gardens under the shade of a tree, absently kicking her feet. She let her hair down, setting the hair clip, ribbon, earrings, and necklace on the bench to the side.

It was silent for some time, until it was interrupted by her father clearing his throat. She glanced over to see him trying to smile, but averted her eyes as he sat down beside her.

He didn’t seem to know what to say for some time. But at last he let out a breath and said, “My, what beautiful blossoms we have this year. But look, this one’s late.” She dared to glance up, to see where he was pointing. “I’ll bet that, when it blooms, it will be the most beautiful of them all.” Gently, he picked up her sylleblossom comb and placed it in her hair.

Nocturna’s father really was the best.

The moment was ruined as drums sounded in the distance, taking the smile from her father’s face. He stood up, grabbing onto his cane.

“What is it?” she asked, suddenly nervous due to the look on her father’s face. He didn’t answer, rushing as fast as his injured leg would take him to the gates, where her mother and grandfather already waited.

As he opened the gates, her mother gave a warning, “Nocturna. Stay inside.” Nocturna’s parents stepped out, but her grandfather hesitated. He cleared his throat, and jerked his head to the side, where a cart sat, one that would allow her to climb up so she could see.

“Citizens, I bring a proclamation… from the Crown City.” an important-looking man with dark red hair and eccentric clothes the likes of which she might catch Grandfather Mors wear. He sat upon a chocobo, flanked by two armored soldiers bearing the flag of the realm. “I’m afraid that Niflheim has invaded our beautiful Lucis.”

A gasp went up through the crowd as Nocturna’s blood went cold. The man continued on, something like a smile on his lips, “By order of his glorious Majesty, one man from each family must serve in the Lucian army.” Her hands clenched upon the edge of the wall as the man began to call out the names of their neighbors, handing a scroll to each man that approached him.

Only a few names in, and the name she had been dreading most was called, “Ah, the… Lucis Caelum family.”

“No!” she gasped. The only men in her family were her father and grandfather. Neither were able to serve. After a dreadful moment of silence, she saw her father hand his cane to her mother and begin to walk, his limp more pronounced with each step despite how tall and proud he stood. As he reached the nearest soldier, her father bowed.

“I am ready to serve the King.”

No! Nocturna leapt from the cart and ran out the gate, “Father, you can’t go!”

“Nocturna!” her father exclaimed, but she paid it no heed, stepping in front of him as if to protect him.

She met the eyes of the soldier closest to them, saying, “Look, my father has already fought bravely and paid for it, as has my grandfather--”

“Oh, do shut up.” came the drawling voice of the man who had made the announcement as he approached the pair. “Shouldn’t you be seen and not heard, _girl?”_ His lips curled, as if he found something about the situation amusing. Her cheeks flushed with anger as she took in a breath. The man paid her anger no mind, taking the scroll from the soldier and holding it out for her father, something like a taunt in his expression making her blood boil.

“Nocturna, you dishonor me.” Those simple words hit her like a punch to the gut, stopping her growing anger in its tracks and leaving her cold. She felt her grandfather gently grab onto her, pulling her away from her father. Nocturna could do nothing but follow and bow her head.

As her father accepted the scroll, the man said, “Do be sure to report to Meldacio tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.” was all her father said, before he turned and limped, alone, back through the gates. Everyone parted to let him through as the call for names continued as if nothing was wrong. Her father ignored the cane that Aulea held out to him, not even looking at her. Nocturna’s eyes welled up with tears she held back as Grandfather Mors murmured gentle words into her ear, guiding her back to their home. They didn’t dare approach dad as he entered the house.

In nothing more than a whisper, she said, “What do we do?” Neither mama or grandfather had any answers, both of them staring after her father with grief already in their eyes. Her lip quivering, she ducked her head again.

The house was… unbearably quiet. At long last her mother told her to get her father for dinner, and she could not even bear to reply. It almost felt like he was already gone. No one would meet her eyes for more than a few moments.

She found him opening the armor chest. Nocturna said nothing as she watched him draw the sword he kept, carefully trying out a few stances with it. For a moment, there was hope as his movements flowed like those of a master-- he had been the General, after all, many years ago-- but it was stomped out in a breath as he lost his balance with a hiss of pain, clutching his bad leg as he fell. The sword clattered to the floor as she slid to the ground, swallowing a sob.

_He was going to die._

Nocturna waited for several moments, trying to get control of her emotions. She couldn’t cry. Not right now. Finally, she stood up and approached the open archway.

“Dad?” her voice was quivering, but it was the best she could do. “I… It’s time for dinner.” She couldn’t bear to look at him as he grunted and limped past her. He still didn’t have his cane. Someone was going to kill him. He didn’t even stand a chance…

Dinner was just as silent. No one spoke. No one looked at each other. She poured the tea with hands that shook as thunder rocked the house. The tense silence was unbearable.

Nocturna could stand it no longer. She slammed her cup of tea onto the table, setting everything rattling with the force as she shouted, “You shouldn’t have to go!”

“Nocturna--” her mother protested, but Nocturna did not want to hear anything her mother had to say. This wasn’t right! How could it be right to send a man who had lived an honorable life, been a war hero, to his death as if his sacrifices meant nothing?

“There are plenty of other men more able to fight for Lucis!” she yelled, shooting to her feet.

Her father looked up to meet her eyes for the first time since the announcement of war, “It is an honor to protect my country and my family.”

“But you’ll _die!”_ her voice cracked, and she drew herself up as if to force back the tears and sobs. “For what? For honor?”

Her father stood up, his voice becoming louder and commanding, “I will die doing what’s right.”

“But it’s not--” she protested.

He leaned forward, roaring in a voice that silenced her words, “I know my place! It is time you learned yours!” Once again she found that she could not breathe. After a few terrible moments of silence, a sob bubbled up from her throat. She slapped a hand over her mouth and fled the dining room for the door. Nocturna ran outside into the heavy wind and rumbling thunder, her shoulders shaking as a few tears slipped from her eyes and fell onto her fingers, still clenched tight to cover her mouth.

Soon it began to rain as she fled down the garden path, at last finding a bit of shelter under the statue of the Draconian by the pond in the garden. She curled up under it, tears freely falling from her eyes. Nocturna was soaked and freezing, but could not bring herself to care enough to go inside. She didn’t even see the point in moving.

Nocturna sat there for a long time, shivering from the cold and from her grief.

The light of the window caught her eye. She saw the silhouettes of her mother and father. They seemed to be holding a conversation, but it wasn’t long before her mother fled, leaving her father standing alone, his stance bowed. After a few moments, he leaned over to blow out the candle.

He… he was going to war to die. She bowed her head again, her eyes squinting shut. He was going to die.

… She couldn’t let that happen. No. She… she _wouldn’t_ let it happen.

Plan only barely formed, she fled to the shrine. This was dangerous, what she was thinking. But… but it would save her father. She lit two sticks of incense and bowed, her mind racing. Nocturna would leave, tonight, when everyone was asleep. The thunder would cover any sounds she made. As long as she was careful, she might manage the disguise. And her father would be safe.

Decided, she left the shrine, running through her mind what she needed.

First, she’d need that scroll her father had. Her tears were gone, hope and determination filling her veins. She carefully crept to her father’s room, stopping at the door to listen carefully. When she heard nothing, she slowly eased the door open, peeking inside to see if either of them stirred. Nothing. Nocturna let out the breath she had been holding as thunder clapped overheard. Her feet hardly making a sound, she made her way to the nightstand, picking up the scroll and replacing it with her sylleblossom comb. She wanted him to know where she was, so he wouldn’t look for her.

She nearly began to make her way to the door, before her eyes caught the glint of the ring her father had. The Ring of the Lucii, the one she had been told in no uncertain terms to never put on. The mark of the head of their family.

On an impulse, Nocturna snatched it up, but didn’t put it on.

With a last look at her father’s sleeping form, she made her way back to the door. There was a chance she would never see him again. She might be killed fighting, she might be killed if she was found out.

Nocturna would rather it be her. She was already a disgrace to her name. The daughter that should have been a son, chosen to bring their family back to greatness.

She stopped into her room long enough to retrieve her own sword from where she’d hidden it. It had been given to her in secret by her grandfather once she had mastered warping. She examined the familiar blade in the dim light, tracing her fingers over the name ‘Noctis’. It had been commissioned by her father at the news of her conception, her grandfather had said. For the boy the ancestors had foretold they would bear.

Nocturna may not be a boy, but she could still be the Noctis this blade was made for.

What else did she need? A quick glance at her long hair reminded her that it was much too long to pass as a boy. She’d have to cut it. That was easy enough. She grabbed one of her knives and chopped it off, leaving it short enough that she wouldn’t have to put it up. It didn’t really matter if it looked good or not. Nocturna might die in a matter of weeks anyway.

Next, she headed to fetch her father’s old armor. Hopefully it would fit. She had nothing else she could wear, really. It took her a bit of fumbling to figure out how to put it on, but to her relief it wasn’t too big, or at least she could adjust it so it fit right.

That was probably everything. She didn’t need food… did she? The camp, or whatever, would probably have that, and any other essentials.

Even if they didn’t, she had to leave now. If someone woke up and caught her, her plan would fail. Grandfather Mors might let her get away with it, but she wasn’t confident enough to count on that. It was time to go.

Her last stop was the stable. Not only would taking the chocobo prevent pursuit, but she would need it to arrive by morning with time enough to sleep and plan her next move.

With one last look back, she left for Meldacio and war.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Salty Ignis inbound. Also Mors.

****_ Mors Lucis Caelum _

 

Mors Lucis Caelum might have been many things, but an idiot wasn’t one of them. He knew the workings of destiny when he saw them. Fate had been almost tangible in the night air, and he knew better than to ignore it. It was no night to sleep through.

Of course, he wasn’t quite sure what he was waiting for.

He didn’t have to wait long before a gust of wind blew, the feel of the magic of the Lucii heavy in the air. It carried a simple, but urgent message:  _ She’s gone.  _

And Mors? He grinned as he sat up, slowly stretching out his limbs. Old bones didn’t quite keep up with urgency, after all. The Lucii could hardly blame him for that, and if they did he’d be sure to give them a stern talking-to the likes of which he was sure Regis still had nightmares about, ancestors or no. Just because they were dead didn’t mean they could forget being considerate. 

Mors stepped into his slippers and leisurely crept his way to Nocturna’s room first. He had to check that she was really gone, after all. Of course she was, as was her sword. 

“Is that hair on the floor?” he mused aloud, nudging the little pile of black hair with a foot. “Well, I’m not cleaning that up. Suppose she must have remembered to cut her hair. Good girl.” 

He then made his way outside, eyes glancing up to the storm raging above. Workings of destiny indeed. Mors grabbed a lantern and lit it, before going to check the stables. 

“Just to make sure… hm, the chocobo is gone. Oh dear.” he glanced around, catching sight of the open gates swinging wildly in the wind. “I do believe she’s cleared out. Well, then, I guess I should wake Regis and Aulea and tell them their daughter ran off.” Oh, this was going to be  _ fun _ . 

Mors hummed on his way to his son’s bedroom. He threw open the door and announced, “Regis! Wake up! It seems your daughter has decided to follow in our footsteps and join the army! Isn’t it wonderful-- I mean, oh it’s just so terrible.” 

“What?” 

Oh his Regis, always so slow. You’d think years as a General would have trained that out of him, but their family was known for stubbornness among other things. 

Regis and Aulea sat up, both alert. The way they were acting, you’d think there was some kind of emergency. Regis picked up something from his nightstand-- the Sylleblossom comb that belonged to Nocturna. 

“It can’t be.” Regis whispered, clutching at the comb. After a start, Regis threw himself from the bed and frantically searched around the nightstand as Aulea got to her feet and Mors tilted his head curiously. After several moments, Regis snapped up and announced, “The Ring. It’s gone.” 

“She must have taken the Ring then, too. Good girl.” Mors hummed, “Oops? Did I say that out loud?” Neither was paying him any attention. Regis snatched up his cane and sped off through the house, Aulea right behind him. Mors sighed-- his son had no consideration at all for his poor father’s old bones. 

Regis checked for his armor, which Nocturna had also taken. However, she had left behind Regis’ sword-- because she had her own, but neither Regis or Aulea knew about that. 

Mors commented, “Oh, no, she must have taken my sword, then.” He would have to be sure to make a token effort to keep his sword out of sight, then. “I wonder if she’ll remember to clean it for me. And… you’re running again. Regis, I don’t think this is good for that bad leg of yours.” Mors followed anyway as they rushed outside into the storm. 

“Nocturna!” Regis shouted as he scrambled down the steps, despite the fact the smart girl was long gone and wouldn’t hear him. Regis, in his haste, tripped and fell into the mud, the comb Nocturna had left tumbling forward into a puddle. Aulea came to try to help him up, both of them staring at the open gates.

“You two are going to get soaked out here…” Mors sighed from his place sheltered on the porch. 

He heard Aulea above the wind and rain insist, “You must go after her! She could be killed!” As she started to stand, Regis grabbed a hold of her hand. Mors’ boy did have  _ some  _ sense.

“If I reveal her, she will be.” Regis replied, holding onto Aulea as she began to cry. Mors sighed again. There was no stopping destiny, miscalculation of gender or no. Nocturna was Chosen, and she would bring their family glory again as was foretold. 

“Well, I suppose if it is time…” Mors said, glancing up at the sky, “I expect you to watch after her. And don’t give me that nonsense about her being a girl and not a boy. Destiny obviously doesn’t care.” he gestured to the gate with a hand. “I never understood why you lot did.” 

* * *

_ Ifrit _

 

“Ifrit, awaken.” 

Really? Now? He was  _ occupied,  _ thank you very  _ little,  _ Somnus. 

_ “Ifrit.”  _

Oh, bother.  _ “Fine.  _ What now?” He focused on the statue that would allow him a form in the mortal world, and in a shower of sparks and smoke (while not  _ entirely  _ necessary, he found that the effect made his awakening more bearable and interesting) he took shape. 

“I need you to wake the Lucii.” 

Somnus was being… completely serious, wasn’t he? The blue-hued spirit didn’t seem to have even an iota of humor within him. If he’d ever had any, it had been long buried along with any other traits that might make his presence more bearable. 

Despite how recent events had shown him that Somnus could indeed be this disrespectful, Ifrit still had trouble believing his audacity. “Are you really asking me, the Astral  _ Ifrit,  _ to wake up the rest of your… brood?” Somnus was perfectly capable of doing this on his own. What was the point? Ifrit was sure he had been made to suffer his demotion often enough. This was just getting excessive. 

“Problem, oh demoted one?” Somnus replied, his arms crossing and his expression one of a taunting challenge. Had this man still not wrapped his head around the concept that playing with fire tended to get one  _ burned?   _ Ifrit would give nearly anything to be able to burn that smug expression from the imbecile’s face to teach him proper respect, forced servitude be damned. 

However, he suppressed his more violent urges and gave a disgusted sigh, “One family reunion, coming right up.” Then Ifrit swept a claw through the room, releasing a line of flame. Completely harmless, of course, but it was still ever so satisfying to see Somnus flinch back just a touch as the fire passed him by. One by one the Lucii took shape, forming a circle around Somnus. 

It didn’t take long for someone to open their mouth. Unfortunately, it was Paratus (they called him  _ the Clever,  _ honestly did they grasp the meaning of the word?), “I  _ told  _ you. I told you that girl was going to bring us to ruin!” 

“Well, Nocturna did have good intentions.” Serenity replied. The Just  _ just _ ifying the situation. How appropriate. 

“But what if she is discovered?” as always, the Pious Castus was more concerned with image than well-being. “Regis will be forever shamed! Dishonor will come to the family!”

Avidus snorted, “Not to  _ mention  _ they’ll lose what little is left of  _ my  _ legacy.” Ifrit rolled his eyes. Not this again. If he had to suffer through the tales of his  _ glorious conquest  _ one more time, he was just going to set the whole shrine on fire and  _ damn  _ the consequences! 

“If  _ I  _ was her father, it would never have gotten this far!” Paratus sniffed in derision. Ifrit tried to hide an undignified snort, remembering just how  _ well behaved  _ his children had been. Poor things.

“To be fair, Regis hardly had any part of that.” Optimus replied, sounding a touch amused. “That Mors has long since lost any sort of sanity he may have possessed.” 

From her place lounging beside Ifrit, Crepera muttered, “Is no one going to mention that Ardyn turning up again? Nor the abnormal interest the Accursed showed in Nocturna? Just me? Well, alright then.” She let out a huff of annoyance. 

The Accursed? Well, that was interesting. Clearly the Rogue had more sense than any of the rest of this rabble. He would have to pull her aside once all of this was over to get more intel on the matter. It always paid to know more of that one’s movements, or else be caught off guard… especially when their interests no longer aligned so perfectly. Really, it wasn’t that much of a pity, though. Ardyn had been as insufferable as his  _ brother,  _ though he hadn’t seemed to appreciate it when Ifrit mentioned the similarity. 

“Honestly, what was Mors thinking, encouraging Nocturna like this? It’s no wonder she ran off to join the army.” Tonitrus commented, “We must retrieve her before this gets too far out of hand.” 

“Let’s send a Guardian to bring her back!” Castus suggested. Was his answer  _ always  _ to let a Guardian handle the situation? A simple retrieval was insulting! Besides, Ifrit hardly saw what the problem here was. Nocturna was simply meeting her destiny. She had been specifically created for such a thing, after all. He would know.

Paratus swooped down to yank Ifrit up. He was so taken aback for a moment he didn’t react as Paratus announced, “Yes! Awaken the Glacian!” Shaken from his surprise, his form burst into flames strong enough to harm the spirit, who promptly dropped him. He snapped his wings out to catch himself before he tumbled to the floor. Honestly, the  _ audacity.  _

“No, the Fulgurian!” Ultio argued. Thankfully, the Warrior seemed to be smarter than his supposedly  _ clever  _ relative. 

Optimus interjected, “No, we should send the Archean!” Really, the Archean was probably the worst choice-- other than Leviathan. He lacked subtlety. Titan could not be trusted to encourage her as Ramuh and Shiva could be. 

“We must send the most powerful of all.” Somnus announced over the other voices, immediately silencing the smaller squabbles that had erupted. 

Ifrit rolled his eyes and inquired, “So does that mean my demotion has finally come to an end?” He wasn’t expecting that to be the case, but one could hope.

“You had your second chance, and due to your failure our Chosen was replaced with  _ that woman.”  _ Somnus replied with scorn. Ifrit still maintained that that had  _ not  _ been a failure. He had done as asked-- she had been born at the right time, in the right circumstances, with an unheard of connection to the family magic, and a natural degree of talent, not to mention his unasked-for blessing. What more did they need? “No, we will be sending a  _ real  _ dragon to retrieve Nocturna. Awaken the Draconian.”

What? Ifrit was a  _ real  _ dragon! More real the Bahamut! 

Ifrit couldn’t help but reply, “I’m sorry, I hadn’t heard that Bahamut had finally learned to breathe  _ fire.”  _ Seriously, just because he had by some  _ fluke  _ ended up with a title like the  _ Draconian  _ did not make him a true dragon! 

_ “Ifrit.”  _ Somnus warned, as if he was any threat to an Astral. What was  _ with  _ the Lucii these days, to assume themselves as  _ threats  _ to the like of the Infernian? The only reason he  _ tolerated  _ them at all was that blasted binding placed on the Ring. 

He forced himself to take a deep, calming breath. It was hardly the fault of any of the living Lucis Caelum’s that their ancestors were deplorable. 

Well, might as well get this over with. “Yes, yes, I’m  _ going.”  _ On the bright side, Bahamut’s statue was outside of the Shrine, allowing him a respite from their presences, brief as it would be. With a sigh, he left the Lucii behind him and made his way down the dark path. 

He stopped before the statue, and prepared to throw a ball of fire to awaken Bahamut when  _ she  _ showed up in her human form. Smiling, Shiva put a finger to her lips, before lightly tapping the nose of the statue. Instantly, Bahamut’s likeness turned to ice and shattered. 

Ifrit… was going to  _ murder  _ Shiva one day. What on earth had he ever seen in the woman?! She was  _ infuriating.  _ She did not even stay long enough to explain herself, no, she just vanished with that stupid, insufferable little smirk! Now what was he supposed to do? Bahamut would not be able to form in the mortal realm until his statue reformed, which would be quick but not quick enough. If Ifrit returned to the Lucii, this entire mess would be blamed on him, because  _ dear  _ Shiva could do no wrong, especially when such a convenient scapegoat existed! He should have known that this would be his fate as soon as he had decided to rebel against the bindings the Lucii had placed on him and the other Six. Ifrit was hardly the only one to do so-- Leviathan was still in a rage over it-- but no, of course he was the one still blamed for everything. 

You know what, no.  _ Ifrit  _ would go, personally. He had been the one to make her and the bless her, thus Nocturna was his responsibility. Bahamut would just bungle things up anyway. She would need someone to support her on the long and difficult journey to her destiny, and who better than Ifrit, her patron? The Lucii be damned, he was helping her. 

“Are you going to stop her?” 

Ifrit snapped to attention. It was… it was Carbuncle. Ifrit had not seen him in… quite some time, now. What was he doing here? 

“I certainly do not plan to.” Ifrit replied. 

Carbuncle tilted his head and chirped happily. “Then I guess I won’t have to stop you!” 

“Stop--” Ifrit shook his head, confused, “Hold on. Why? What are you even doing here?” Carbuncle did not bother to respond in any way that made sense, only chirping again before hopping off, looking back at Ifrit as if expecting him to follow. 

Ifrit sighed. It seemed he would have a companion on this mission, then. Annoying, but Carbuncle was the kind of Astral that was annoyingly persistent. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for your time.


End file.
